The Time of Convergence: Spiritualism's Root

If you missed our first article, “The Time of Convergence: The Overview,” then what follows here may seem like an unexpected direction, because what was previously considered was not a detailed examination of specific systems or beliefs, but a broader reflection on a world that appears increasingly unsettled, increasingly unstable, and moving toward outcomes that feel uncertain, yet at the same time, strangely aligned.

But that was only the surface.

Because when patterns begin to repeat, and when what unfolds across nations, cultures, and systems starts to move in ways that echo something already outlined, the question is no longer whether something is happening, but what is driving it, and whether what is now emerging has already been revealed long before our time.

And this is where both Scripture and history begin to converge, not in contradiction, but in confirmation, for what the Word of God declares is not isolated from the movements of humanity, but instead provides the framework through which those movements can be understood, showing that what appears new is often only a continuation of something far older.

Because spiritualism, as defined by Scripture, is not limited to the outward practices that are most commonly associated with it, nor is it confined to the images that culture has chosen to portray, but is instead any attempt to seek knowledge, guidance, power, or connection from a source other than God, stepping beyond what has been revealed and placing trust in what has not been sanctioned.

And this is why it carries such weight, because what was once hidden has not remained hidden, what was once resisted has, in many cases, been reintroduced, and what was once clearly recognised is now often redefined, softened, and presented in ways that no longer appear as opposition, but as something acceptable, even beneficial.

Which means that the issue before us is no longer simply one of awareness, but of discernment, especially in a time where Scripture itself warns that deception would not always present itself as darkness, but as something far more subtle, far more familiar, and far more convincing, working not from the outside alone, but from within the very spaces where truth is assumed to be understood.

And if that is so—if what is now unfolding is not new, but a continuation—then the only way to understand it rightly is not to begin with the present, but to return to the beginning, where the distinction was first made clear.

HISTORY’S FORGOTTEN PAST

Now, while it may not always be recognised, there is a direct connection between the physical and the spiritual, and this is not something introduced later in Scripture, but something established from the very beginning, where what unfolds in the visible world reflects a deeper reality, revealing not only that this connection exists, but that it leads in very different directions depending on whether it is understood according to what God has revealed, or pursued according to human reasoning.

What Scripture reveals does not begin with systems, nor with movements, nor even with nations, but with something far more simple, and yet far more defining, because from the very beginning, before there were structures to follow or traditions to inherit, there were already two distinct ways set before humanity, not hidden, not complex, but clear in their outcome, even if not always recognised for what they were, for even then the difference was already being expressed through worship, shaped by understanding, and ultimately revealed in the way in which humanity chose to draw near.

For when the first sons of Adam and Eve stood before God, the difference between them was not found in their awareness of Him, nor in their desire to acknowledge Him, for both came, both brought, and both presented themselves in what outwardly appeared to be the same act, yet what was revealed in that moment has echoed through every generation since.

Because one came according to what had been revealed, aligning himself with the instruction already given, while the other came according to his own reasoning, presenting what seemed fitting in his own sight, sincere perhaps in intent, yet disconnected from what God had required.

And it was here that the line was drawn, not between belief and unbelief, but between obedience and self-direction, between what God had spoken and what man determined for himself.

From that moment on, the pattern does not disappear, but unfolds, moving beyond the individual and into the collective, where what began in a single act of worship begins to take shape within families, within communities, and eventually within entire systems, until what was once a personal choice becomes a shared direction.

Because as humanity multiplied, so too did its inclination to move away from dependence on what God had revealed, and this is seen clearly in the generations that followed, where the separation between those who called upon the name of the Lord and those who walked according to their own path became increasingly defined, not only in belief, but in practice.

And yet, even after the flood, when the world was given again a beginning, the same inclination remained, for it was not long before humanity once again sought to establish something apart from God’s direction, not by abandoning Him entirely, but by approaching Him on their own terms.

This is seen in the plains of Shinar, where the tower at Babel was not merely an act of construction, but an expression of intention, a unified effort to reach upward, to establish identity, security, and purpose independent of what had been spoken, and in doing so, what was once a personal divergence became a collective system and from there, the pattern deepens.

Because as nations rise, so too do the structures that define them, and among these, none stand more clearly in Scripture as a centre of spiritual corruption than Babylon, not simply as a place, but as a representation of what occurs when truth is no longer rejected outright, but reshaped, reinterpreted, and blended with something else.

For Babylon does not remove the idea of God, it alters it, introducing layers where there was once clarity, mixing the sacred with the profane, and replacing what was simple with something far more complex, until what emerges appears spiritual, appears structured, appears meaningful, yet at its core has departed from the simplicity of what God has already revealed.

And this is where the connection must be understood, because what began with Cain was not lost in time, nor confined to the early pages of Scripture, but carried forward, developing, expanding, and embedding itself within the fabric of human history, until the distinction between the two ways was no longer always seen as clearly as it once was.

For one continues to rest upon what God has spoken, and the other continues to seek beyond it, and it is from this second path, this desire to access, to know, and to connect apart from God, that every form of spiritualism finds its root, not as a new development, but as something that can be traced back to the very beginning, where the first curiosity to step beyond what God had revealed found its place in the mind of Eve, showing that this is not a modern phenomenon, but an ancient pursuit that has never ceased, only changed its appearance.

THE SAME PATH — DIFFERENT FORMS

If what began in the beginning has never ceased, but only changed its appearance, then it follows that what was once clearly defined in Scripture should still be identifiable, not because it appears the same outwardly, but because it operates according to the same principle, for truth does not shift with time, and neither does deception, but both remain consistent in their source, even as their expressions evolve.

And this is exactly what the Word of God reveals, not leaving these things undefined, nor hidden behind vague language, but naming them plainly, showing that what grows out of that second path—that desire to seek beyond what God has spoken—takes on forms that, while varied in appearance, remain united in origin, drawing from the same source and leading in the same direction. For it was never the outward form that defined them, but the direction from which they draw.

And among these, one of the clearest is divination, described in Scripture not as a harmless curiosity, but as a deliberate attempt to obtain knowledge apart from what God has revealed, a stepping beyond the boundary He Himself has set, seeking insight through another source that presents itself as illuminating, yet stands in opposition to the light already given:

“There shall not be found among you any one that… useth divination…” 

— Deuteronomy 18:10

This was not a minor warning, nor a cultural instruction limited to a specific people, but a direct exposure of something that has always existed, for the desire to know beyond what God has revealed is tied to that original divergence, that moment when the question was first introduced—“Yea, hath God said?”—and from that point, the pursuit of hidden knowledge began to take shape.

As history unfolded, in the courts of Babylon, this pursuit was not concealed, but elevated, refined, and institutionalised, where astrologers, magicians, and soothsayers stood before kings, claiming insight into mysteries and presenting themselves as interpreters of destiny, yet when the moment came for truth to be revealed, they were found lacking.

This is seen clearly in the account recorded in the Book of Daniel, where the king demanded not only the interpretation of a dream, but the dream itself, and those who claimed knowledge could not provide it, because what they offered was not revelation, but imitation, not truth, but constructed insight built upon a source that could not deliver what it promised. And yet, though exposed then, the pursuit did not end, it adapted.

What once stood in royal courts now sits quietly within the everyday, where guidance is sought not through what God has spoken, but through systems that promise insight—astrology, readings, intuitive impressions—each presented in language that feels personal, harmless, even helpful, yet still rooted in the same foundation: the pursuit of knowledge apart from God.

And alongside this stands necromancy, the attempt to reach beyond the boundary God has clearly defined, to communicate with the dead and maintain connection where Scripture has declared separation, not as an act of open rebellion, but often as an expression of grief, of longing, and of the desire for closure:

“…or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a necromancer.” 

— Deuteronomy 18:11

“For the living know that they shall die: but the dead know not any thing…” 

— Ecclesiastes 9:5

And yet, despite this clarity, the practice has persisted, because what is desired often overrides what has been revealed, and this is seen most clearly in the account of Saul, who, having already turned from the counsel of God, sought out a medium at Endor, not because he lacked instruction, but because he desired an answer on his own terms. And what appeared to respond was received as truth.

Yet the act itself stood in direct contradiction to what God had already spoken. And this is where the deception deepens, because if the dead know not anything, then what responds cannot be the dead, no matter how familiar it appears, no matter how accurate it sounds, or how convincing the experience may be. Which means that what is being engaged is something else entirely.

And in the present, this has moved from hidden ritual into open acceptance, where mediums, psychic readings, and communication with “loved ones” are not only practiced, but normalised, presented as healing, as connection, as comfort, yet still rooted in the same contradiction to what God has already revealed.

And then there are enchantments, once recognised openly as ritual acts, spoken formulas, and intentional attempts to influence outcomes through unseen forces, but now reshaped into something far more subtle, where the language has changed, but the intention remains:

“…or an enchanter…” 

— Deuteronomy 18:10

“Now the works of the flesh are manifest… witchcraft…” 

— Galatians 5:20

For in Egypt, when Moses stood before Pharaoh, the magicians replicated signs, not through divine authority, but through power that imitated what was real, creating the appearance of equality while lacking the source from which true authority flows, and though what they produced resembled the genuine, it could not extend beyond imitation, nor sustain what it sought to mirror, revealing that what was at work was not creation, but replication, not life, but a shadow of it.

And this is where the pattern continues, though no longer as openly recognised, for what was once expressed through visible ritual has, over time, become internalised, no longer confined to outward acts, but moving into thought, language, and intention, where words are no longer simply spoken, but used as instruments to shape outcomes, to direct circumstances, and to bring about desired results, often presented as empowerment, as self-development, or as alignment, yet still operating on the same underlying principle—the attempt to influence apart from what God has revealed.

And even the use of substances to alter perception, to access heightened states of awareness, and to enter what is described as spiritual experience follows this same path, not as a new development, but as a continuation of what Scripture identifies as sorcery, where the mind is opened not through truth, but through altered states that remove clarity, making the individual more susceptible to influence rather than more grounded in what has been revealed.

So, from here, the progression becomes more personal, more subtle, and more difficult to discern, for it is no longer merely about knowledge, or control, but about relationship itself, which is where the matter of familiar spirits emerges, not presenting as something distant or unknown, but as something close, something recognised, something that appears to understand, to guide, and to reassure:

“Regard not them that have familiar spirits…” 

— Leviticus 19:31

And this is what makes it so difficult to identify, because what is unfamiliar is often questioned, but what feels known is rarely resisted, and when guidance comes in a form that appears gentle, helpful, and aligned with personal desire, it is often received without testing, accepted not because it has been proven against what God has spoken, but because it feels right in the moment.

Yet Scripture has already made clear that deception does not always appear as darkness, nor does it always present itself as opposition, for even Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light, meaning that what appears good, what appears helpful, and what appears trustworthy is not always what it claims to be, especially when it draws the individual away from dependence on what God has already revealed.

And when these forms are seen together, not as isolated practices, but as expressions of the same underlying pursuit, something begins to come into focus, because this is no longer scattered, nor incidental, but structured, addressing every part of human experience, where knowledge is sought through divination, connection through necromancy, control through enchantments, and guidance through familiar spirits, each offering an answer, each presenting a pathway, yet all drawing from the same source, and all leading in the same direction.

Together, they form a system that speaks to the mind, the emotions, the will, and the need for belonging, offering clarity, comfort, and direction, yet doing so apart from the One who has already revealed what is true.

This is why it matters now more than ever, because what was once separated by form is now unified in presence, woven into daily life in ways that are no longer recognised for what they are, and accepted not because they have been proven, but because they have been repeated, normalised, and reframed over time.

And if that is the case, then what remains is not simply to recognise that these things exist, but to understand how they have moved from the margins into the centre, not by force, but by acceptance, not by confrontation, but by familiarity, until what was once clearly identified is now rarely questioned, and what was once resisted is now often embraced.

FFROM SHADOWY PAST TO SYSTEMS PRESENT

And as the writings of the New Testament were completed and the generation that first received them began to pass, what had been clearly established did not disappear, but it did begin to be altered, not always through open rejection, but through gradual influence, where thought, philosophy, and existing systems began to shape understanding, until what had once been distinct was, in many places, blended, and what had once been clearly defined was no longer consistently preserved.

Because the same divergence that had been present from the beginning did not cease with the closing of Scripture, nor did it remain confined to the forms already revealed, but continued to move through history, not always through direct opposition, but often through absorption, where existing ideas, beliefs, and systems were not removed, but incorporated, reshaped, and reintroduced in ways that made them more difficult to distinguish from what had originally been given.

This becomes increasingly visible as the influence of Ancient Greece begins to shape the intellectual framework of the world, where philosophy rose not as an outright rejection of the divine, but as an attempt to understand reality through human reasoning, placing increasing weight upon thought, logic, and interpretation, often detached from direct revelation, and in doing so, introducing a way of approaching truth that did not always depend upon what God had spoken, but upon what could be reasoned, explored, and concluded through the mind alone.

And while this did not immediately replace what had been established, it did begin to influence how it was understood, because once truth becomes something to be interpreted rather than received, it opens the door for variation, for expansion, and ultimately, for alteration, where what was once simple becomes layered, and what was once clear becomes subject to perspective.

From there, the rise of the Roman Empire did not remove these ideas, but absorbed them, systematised them, and extended their reach, bringing together governance, culture, and belief into a unified structure, where influence could move not only through thought, but through authority, and where what was accepted could be reinforced, not only by persuasion, but by position.

And it is within this environment that the merging begins to take clearer shape, not as a single event, but as a gradual process, where elements that had once existed outside of what God had established began, over time, to find their way alongside it, not always replacing it directly, but existing beside it, influencing it, and in many cases, reshaping how it was expressed and understood.

Because when systems expand, they do not always discard what came before, but often incorporate it, allowing older ideas to remain beneath newer structures, until what is presented appears unified on the surface, yet contains within it layers that originate from very different sources.

And so what had once been clearly divided begins, over time, to appear less distinct, not because the difference no longer exists, but because it is no longer always recognised, and what had once been understood through direct revelation begins, in many places, to be filtered through philosophy, tradition, and structure. And yet, even this was not the end of the progression.

Because as history continued, the same underlying pursuit—to know beyond what God had revealed, to access beyond what He had permitted, and to connect apart from His instruction—did not diminish, but found new expression as the world itself began to change, moving into periods where knowledge expanded, communication increased, and ideas could spread more rapidly than ever before.

And it is here that what had once moved quietly beneath the surface begins to re-emerge more openly, no longer confined to isolated practice or embedded philosophy, but beginning to take shape once again as defined systems, presented not as ancient belief, but as new understanding, not as something inherited, but as something discovered. Which means that what follows is not the beginning of something new.

But the reappearance of something very old.

THE REEMERGENCE OF ANCIENT PRACTICES

And when that reappearance begins to take form, it does not arrive as something openly opposed to truth, but as something that presents itself as deeper truth, as hidden knowledge now brought to light, as understanding that had once been lost, but is now being rediscovered, and it is within this context that the shift into modern spiritual systems begins to take shape.

Because by the time the nineteenth century unfolds, the world itself is changing, knowledge is expanding, communication is increasing, and ideas are moving across nations with a speed and reach that had not previously been possible, creating an environment where what had once remained fragmented could now be gathered, organised, and presented as a unified perspective.

And yet, this moment in history does not stand alone, nor does it emerge without context, for it follows the close of a prophetic period outlined in the book of Book of Daniel, a span of time in which truth had been obscured, authority had been centralised, and access to what had been revealed was, in many ways, restricted, and as that period came to its end, what followed was not a single movement, but a broad release that touched multiple areas at once, where Scripture became more accessible, thought more widely explored, and influence no longer confined in the same way it had been before.

With that release, the divergence that had always existed begins once again to surface more clearly, for on one side there is a renewed call back to the Word of God, seen in movements of revival, reformation, and the restoration of truths that had long been neglected, while on the other there emerges an equally powerful expansion of alternative systems, where human reasoning, spiritual exploration, and the pursuit of knowledge apart from God begin to accelerate.

It is within this convergence that the stage is set, not for something entirely new, but for the reappearance of something ancient, now positioned within a world ready to receive it on a scale that had not previously been possible. And it is here that figures such as Helena Blavatsky emerge, not as isolated thinkers, but as central points through which these ideas begin to be systematised, drawing together elements from Eastern mysticism, Western esotericism, and ancient philosophical thought, and presenting them under a framework that claimed to reveal deeper spiritual truths beyond what had been traditionally understood.

At the centre of this was a redefinition of life, death, and spiritual reality itself, where the clear distinctions established in Scripture were no longer upheld, but replaced with concepts such as the continuation of consciousness, the progression of the soul, and the idea that humanity itself was moving toward a higher spiritual evolution, not through repentance and alignment with God, but through awakening and self-realisation.

And in doing so, what had once been recognised as spiritualism was no longer presented in its earlier forms, but reframed as philosophy, as enlightenment, and as the expansion of human awareness, making it more acceptable, more approachable, and more easily integrated into the thinking of the time. But what had changed was not the source., but merely the presentation.

Because the same pursuit remained—to access knowledge beyond what God had revealed, to understand spiritual reality apart from His Word, and to engage with forces that were not grounded in what He had established. And as these ideas began to spread, they did not remain confined to a single movement, but continued to expand through individuals who would carry them further, shaping them into broader frameworks that would reach deeper into culture and thought.

This is seen in the work of Alice A. Bailey, whose writings extended these concepts into what would become a more defined vision of global spiritual unity, introducing the idea that humanity itself was being guided toward a collective awakening, often through communication with what were described as higher spiritual beings, or “ascended masters,” presenting guidance that appeared structured, purposeful, and aligned with progress, yet still rooted in the same principle of receiving direction from a source other than God.

And in this, the shift becomes more pronounced, because what was once individual pursuit now begins to take on a collective direction, where spiritualism is no longer simply about personal experience, but about the shaping of humanity itself, the movement toward a unified understanding that transcends traditional belief, yet does so by stepping beyond the authority of Scripture.

And alongside this, another influence emerges, one that moves the focus even further inward, away from external authority and toward the individual as the centre of spiritual direction, seen in the teachings of Aleister Crowley, where the emphasis shifts to personal will as the guiding principle, elevating the self to a position of authority, and reinforcing the idea that truth is not something received, but something realised within.

And here, the pattern reaches a point of convergence, because where divination sought knowledge, and necromancy sought connection, and enchantments sought control, this final shift places authority within the individual, completing the movement away from dependence on God and into full self-direction.

When these influences are considered together, not as separate developments, but as connected progressions, something begins to come clearly into view, for what was once expressed through ancient practices has now been reintroduced as structured belief, as philosophical system, and as cultural influence, presented not as something to be questioned, but as something to be explored, embraced, and ultimately accepted.

From this point, the transition into the modern world becomes almost seamless, because what begins as structured philosophy does not remain contained, but moves steadily into everyday life, where these same ideas reappear in new language, new practices, and new forms, no longer confined to defined movements, but woven into the fabric of culture itself, encountered not as systems to be examined, but as experiences to be lived.

And it is here that the shift becomes most visible, because what was once hidden has become familiar, what was once recognised has been redefined, and what was once resisted has, in many cases, been quietly embraced.

WHEN THE SYSTEM BECOMES NORMAL

And from this point, what had once been shaped through systems and carried through influential figures does not remain confined to defined movements, but continues to move outward, settling into the everyday, where what was once structured becomes lived, and what was once examined becomes experienced.

Because ideas, once accepted, do not remain in isolation, but spread, adapting to the language, culture, and expectations of the time, and in doing so, what had been presented as philosophy begins to take on practical form, appearing not as doctrine, but as lifestyle, not as belief alone, but as something to be practiced, explored, and embodied.

And this is where the shift becomes unmistakable, for what was once recognised as ritual now appears as language, where outcomes are no longer sought through formal ceremony, but through spoken intention, through alignment, through the belief that reality itself can be shaped by thought and declaration, presented as empowerment, as self-discovery, and as personal growth, yet still rooted in the same principle—the pursuit of influence apart from what God has revealed.

And alongside this, what had once been confined to temples, texts, and traditions begins to move into the body itself, where healing is no longer understood solely through what God has established, but through energy, vibration, and balance, concepts that draw from spiritual frameworks that are not grounded in Scripture, yet are presented as natural extensions of human potential, offering restoration apart from the One who is the source of life.

And the heavens, once declared to reveal the glory of God, are again turned toward as a means of guidance, where identity, direction, and understanding are drawn from the alignment of stars and planets, reintroducing what had long been exposed, yet now presented in language that feels reflective rather than directive, subtle rather than authoritative, yet still shaping perception in ways that move the individual away from dependence on what God has spoken.

And even the pursuit of heightened awareness, of expanded consciousness, of experiences that move beyond the ordinary, has found its place within this same current, where substances, practices, and environments are used to access what is described as deeper reality, yet do so by stepping outside of the clarity that God has given, opening the mind not to truth, but to influence.

What becomes clear is that these are not separate developments, but expressions of the same movement, for what was once ritual has now become language, what was once hidden has become normal, and what was once questioned is now, in many cases, simply assumed.

And from there, the shift moves further still, because what is encountered repeatedly is rarely resisted, and what is presented consistently is often accepted, and it is through this quiet process that these ideas become embedded, not by force, but by familiarity, settling into thought and practice until they are no longer recognised as something introduced, but as something that has always been there.

It is here that culture itself begins to play its role, not by instructing directly, but by presenting repeatedly, where stories, imagery, and narrative introduce these concepts in ways that remove their weight, soften their meaning, and reshape their perception, until what was once associated with warning becomes associated with curiosity, and what was once recognised as deception is reimagined as possibility.

Because when something is seen often enough, it no longer feels foreign, and when it no longer feels foreign, it is no longer examined, and when it is no longer examined, it is often accepted, and in this way what once stood at the margins moves quietly into the centre, not by confrontation, but by repetition, not by demand, but by exposure, until what was once clearly identified is now rarely questioned.

And this is where everything that has been shown begins to settle into its full context, because what was revealed in Scripture, what was demonstrated in history, and what has developed through systems is no longer distant, but present, no longer isolated, but integrated, no longer something to be studied, but something being encountered.

And it is here that the warning of Scripture moves from the page into reality, not as something theoretical, but as something unfolding, because the Word has already declared that such a time would come:

“Now the Spirit speaketh expressly, that in the latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits, and doctrines of devils.” 

— 1 Timothy 4:1

And that this deception would not come without power, nor without persuasion, nor without appearance:

“Even him, whose coming is after the working of Satan with all power and signs and lying wonders, And with all deceivableness of unrighteousness…” 

— 2 Thessalonians 2:9–10

And if that is so, then what has been revealed is not simply information, but instruction, not simply awareness, but preparation, because if these things are present, and if they are increasing, then the question is no longer whether they exist, but whether they are being recognised for what they are.

CONCLUSION — THE QUESTION THAT REMAINS

And if all of this is so—if what has been revealed in Scripture, traced through history, and observed in the present is not a collection of unrelated developments, but the continuation of a single, consistent movement—then what remains is not simply to acknowledge it, but to respond to it.

Because what has been shown is not distant, nor confined to the past, nor limited to systems that can be easily identified and set aside, but is present, active, and in many cases already woven into the patterns of everyday life, encountered not as something to be questioned, but as something to be accepted.

And this is where the matter becomes personal, not in theory, but in reality, because the distinction that was set from the beginning has not been removed, nor has it been redefined, but remains exactly as it was—one path resting upon what God has spoken, and the other continuing to seek beyond it—and if that is still the case, then the question is no longer whether these two paths exist, but which one is being followed.

For the challenge of the last days is not simply that deception exists, but that it no longer always appears as deception, and if what has been explored here is any indication, then the forms it takes are not always obvious, not always extreme, and not always separate from what is considered normal, which means that discernment is no longer optional, but essential.

Because if what feels familiar is not always true, and if what appears helpful is not always from God, then what remains is not simply to observe what is happening, but to return to what has already been given, to measure everything against what God has spoken, and to recognise that truth does not change, even when everything around it appears to.

And yet, even this is only part of the picture, because if these things are not only present in the world, but are moving closer, becoming more subtle, more integrated, and more widely accepted, then the next question is no longer simply where they exist, but where they are beginning to appear in places where they would not be expected, for the final phase of deception is not found at the margins, but where truth is assumed to be, and if what has been traced from the beginning to the present continues as Scripture has warned, then the most pressing question is no longer what is happening in the world, but what is now unfolding within the church itself, where the lines that were once clear are no longer always recognised, and where the convergence of world and belief begins to take shape.

And that is where the focus must now turn.